Page 59 of Damaged Protector
My gaze trailed the girls as they headed to the bathroom at the same time I sensed someone approaching me. Female. Red hair. Short dress.
“Hi, handsome. Do—”
I didn’t even glance at her.
“No.” The force of my single word had her stumbling back before retreating in haste. I was aware of how stupid I was being. I should have taken the redhead home and fucked her brains out to distract myself from my newly found stalker tendencies.
I needed a good “distraction.” I hadn’t fucked anything except my hand in a while, and that was most likely the cause of my current state of insanity.
Mallori and Megan appeared once again with the other girl, Lauren, beside them. The dark-haired one peeled off and returned to the dance floor as the other two made their way to the front door of the club.
Slipping out the side door, I rounded the building in time to hear Mal tell the driver they were dropping off her friend on the way. I jumped in my truck and drove home, immediately going to my bedroom to change into lounge pants and a black T-shirt.
Just about the time I settled onto the couch, doing my best to look like I’d been here impersonating a couch potato all evening, I heard a key in the lock. The door swung open and then slammed shut behind a very angry Little Bee.
“Fucking crazy ass!” she ranted, apparently not noticing me at first as she tossed her purse on the side table and stomped into the living room. “Fucking stalking me like that. What the actual fuck?”
I panicked. She knows. Christ, she’s going to hate me.
Mallori Fitz was simply glorious when she was mad. She had curled her hair earlier and pulled part of it up into a cute top knot. The rest swirled around her small frame like blonde flames as she stamped her foot and swished her hands wildly through the air, still muttering curse words.
“Mal?”
Her narrowed eyes zeroed in on me, and she marched toward me, her heeled sandals slapping against the floor. Planting her hands on her hips, she glared down at me.
Holy fuck.
As soon as I opened my mouth to explain—though I had absolutely no good explanation for my behavior—she threw her phone at me, and I caught it. “Do you know how to find a tracking app on a phone?”
Huh?
I was momentarily confused. I hadn’t put anything on her phone. She’d been talking to one of the other girls before she left, and I’d overheard her saying they were meeting at a club called Velvet Paradise. That was how I knew where to find her.
“Uh, yeah. I can do that.”
She pointed a finger at the device in my hand. “Find it and get it the fuck off my phone.”
I’d never heard her cuss like that, and I would have been amused if my nerves weren’t on high alert. “You want to tell me what’s going on, Bee?”
“My. Mother,” she ground out through gritted teeth.
Ahh. That was all I needed to hear. Karen had put a tracking app on her daughter’s phone to keep up with her. Mal had every right to be pissed.
Yeah, because stalking is wrong, dipshit.
Guilt flooded through me as I located the hidden app, and I patted the seat beside me so she could see what I was looking at. Her skin was practically sizzling with ire when she flopped down and leaned against my upper arm.
“See? She had it hidden in a folder within a folder, and it has a name that doesn’t raise suspicion,” I explained, pointing to the generic icon labeled System Maintenance. “She probably looked up how to do it on the internet.”
“Well that’s just bullshit,” she snapped. “I’m not a teenager that needs to be monitored. Can you get rid of it?”
“Of course.” I deleted the app and handed her phone back.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I confirmed, and the scowl lines on her forehead relaxed and then disappeared completely. The sweetest smile ever appeared, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to my cheek. She smelled like sugar with a hint of liquor.
“Thank you, Hawk. You’re such a good friend.”